Repercussions
by kokoda2007
Summary: Set after the end of Season 2 All Hell Breaks Loose Pt2. The knife wound in Sam’s back is healed, but was there was lasting damage?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Repercussions

**Author:** Kokoda2007

**Summary:** Set after the end of Season 2 (All Hell Breaks Loose Pt2). The knife wound in Sam's back is healed, but was there was lasting damage?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Repercussions**

**Chapter 1 **

Sam absently rubbed the wound on his lower back. It had only been a week since Dean's bargain with the demon had secured his life, healing the fatal knife wound in his lower back. He tried not to dwell on what had happened, on how he'd died; instead he needed to concentrate on finding a way to release his brother from the bargain that would claim his soul in a year. Less than a year now – time was already moving too quickly, and he felt momentarily overwhelmed by all that he had to achieve.

There were possibly a couple of hundred evil spirits and demons to destroy that had escaped the confines of hell and needed to be sent back. And he had to save Dean. That was his priority, the one thing he was not prepared to lose focus on, no matter how many jobs vied for their attention. Dean came first, and there were only 51 weeks left – not much time. Not enough time. Never before had time seemed so precious.

They didn't need to go out searching for jobs; they had their pick of cases. The opening of hell's gates, even momentarily had really increased their work load. Dean seemed determined to work tirelessly, killing as much evil as they could before it dissipated and spread over a wider area. He was tempted to retreat, to move to safety. They'd been through so much and a little time to focus on themselves. Focusing on releasing Dean from the deal seemed the most appropriate move.

In compromise, he followed Dean's lead, hunting down whatever evil Dean preyed upon. In his little spare time he researched, desperate to find a way to break his brother's deal.

He understood what his brother was doing. Shit, if you knew you were destined to end up in hell in a year's time, you would need to keep busy, to focus on anything else, or lose your sanity. But Dean didn't seem to understand. If they didn't break the deal, if they didn't find a way to free him, he would be joining every evil _sonofabitch_ that they hunted, that they'd sent back to hell.

Exhaustion was starting to take its toll though, and he knew he was going to have to ask Dean for them to slow down, maybe take a break. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, trying to ease the headache that had been throbbing behind his eyes for the last couple of days. He really wasn't feeling that great, but was reluctant to bother his brother. Dean already had so much on his plate, had sacrificed so much.

oooOOOooo

He watched Sam like a hawk.

It was like he constantly needed the reassurance that his brother was with him again, that his death was only temporary, that his deal for his brother's life remained cemented. He struggled to rid his mind of the memories of Sam's death, of his startled look of shock as the knife plundered into his back, of his body slumping lifelessly in his arms.

He didn't want the memories.

Since he'd made the fateful bargain with the demon, he couldn't help hovering over his brother, needing the quick touches and familiar words to know that he had Sam back. That Sam's body was warm again, breathing. He couldn't contemplate the alternative. He'd been through that, and couldn't go through it again.

No matter what Sam said, he didn't regret the deal that he'd made.

He watched as Sam rubbed the spot on his back where the rusty blade had pierced his back. A jagged scar on his spine was a vivid reminder of the events of that fateful night. His brother still seemed to be in pain from the injury, even though the fatal wound now appeared healed. He couldn't help the worry that encompassed him every time his brother touched that particular spot on his back, worrying that he'd done something, that the deal had somehow come undone.

"You okay?" Dean asked, trying to mask his level of concern.

Sam dropped his hand from his lower back and looked into the intent gaze of his brother. "Just tired I guess."

"Yeah …think we'll call it a day." Dean wasn't prepared to gamble with his brother's health.

oooOOOooo

The motel room was cheap and nasty. Mustard colored carpet set the theme for the room, with the sparse furnishings toned to match and the stale scent of cigarette smoke completing the effect. Just entering the room made his head pound a little harder and he rubbed a weary hand across his brow, attempting to alleviate the pain.

He was starting to feel progressively worse.

Although they'd taken a few rough cases over the past week, neither of them had sustained any injuries apart from the odd bump and bruise. They'd been lucky, comparatively speaking.

Knowing the deal that his brother had made, he assumed he'd been completely healed, but couldn't suppress the small slither of doubt that persisted every time he felt the twitch of pain in his lower back. He had to be healed – otherwise his brother's sacrifice was for nothing.

Maybe he was just sick.

Despite the mild evening, he felt kind of clammy and could feel a thin layer of sweat adhering to his skin.

Maybe he was coming down with a cold.

His muscles ached, like he's partaken in strenuous physical activity without warming up of cooling down. He felt that he needed to stretch, remove the kinks and loosen his cramping muscles.

Maybe he had the flu, or a virus.

He wanted to crawl into the bed and sleep for the next week. But he couldn't afford to. Time was ticking down – too fast. Already a week had pasted and he was conscious of ever hour that slipped away, every hour that pushed them closer to the end of Dean's year. He didn't have time to be sick. He needed every moment to research, to seek out a solution, to find a way to save his brother.

Swallowing thickly he pushed himself off his temporary position on the end of the bed. Deciding that a hot shower would help, he made his way towards the bathroom, pausing to retrieve some fresh clothes from his bag.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean's question broke through his self absorption.

"I'll feel better after a shower."

"That doesn't answer my question Sam."

"I feel like crap Dean …is that really what you want to hear?" Sam couldn't keep the irritation from his voice.

"I just want the truth – is that too much to ask? …God dammit Sam, it's only been a week …you need time to rest, to heal."

"Yeah Dean, it's been a week …a whole week already …we need to concentrate on you…" Sam grabbed his clothes and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door in his wake.

Dean stood there, dumbfounded. That hadn't gone well.

Sam immediately felt guilty for reacting so harshly to Dean's concern. He hadn't meant to snap. After all Dean had done, how could he be such an ass, treat his brother so poorly.

He showered quickly, trying to wash the weariness from his body with soap and water. It didn't help. If anything, he was starting to feel worse.

His head throbbed and he could feel the heat radiating off his forehead. He knew he was running a slight fever.

Wiping a hand across the fogged up bathroom mirror, he looked closely at his reflection. He now knew why Dean was concerned, why he suspected he was sick. He looked as bad as he felt. Worse maybe.

He couldn't go back into the bedroom and pretend nothing was wrong.

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for the reviews! I knew I loved this site for a reason. My muse has been lost for a while so I've been too afraid to post here, but the reviews have inspired me to get in front of the keyboard again and to keep writing.

**Repercussions**

**by Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 2**

As he dressed, he rehearsed what he was going to say to his brother. How he was going to apologize, how he was going to make things right. He also acknowledged that it was stupid, pointless even, to keep secrets from his brother. Dean seemed to know when he was sick even before he acknowledged it himself. After all they'd been through, and had yet to face, they needed to pull together, not push each other away.

Bracing himself, prepared for Dean's onslaught, he opened the door hesitantly and entered the bedroom. He saw his brother stretched out on one of the beds, eyes closed as if in sleep. Sam knew better. He could see the coiled strength in Dean's pose and knew he was anything but relaxed. He stopped after a few steps into the quiet room and watched as Dean raised his eyes and stared at him intently. It was a little unnerving and it took him a second to remember the apology he had prepared.

"Dean ...I'm sorry …I …"

"Sam, I…" Dean spoke at the same time as his brother.

They both stopped mid sentence, waiting for the other to continue. Silence infused the room as they both stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Sam broke the silence. "I didn't mean to snap before. You're right …" Sam wiped a hand across the sweat already beading on his forehead and sat down on the end of the other bed, opposite his brother. He dropped his aching head into his hands before continuing. "I don't know what's wrong …but I don't feel right."

Dean moved to hSam's side, crouching on the floor in front of his brother.

"Sam?"

"Did the demon …when you made the deal …did the demon say anything else?" Sam couldn't vocalize the thoughts running through his head. He wished Dean hadn't had made the deal, but he didn't want to die. He wanted to know exactly what the demon had said, wanted to know the intricate details of the deal. Maybe there was a catch that Dean just hadn't grasped at the time. Maybe Dean had a year, but that didn't guarantee Sam lifelong health. And how long was a lifetime, his lifetime anyway?

Had Dean just prolonged the inevitable for a fraction of time?

They'd avoided discussing the deal since Dean had reluctantly revealed its existence. The topic was an unspoken taboo, with neither one of them wanting to discuss it directly, as if mentioning it would make it so much more real – his recent death and Dean's limited future.

"The deal was simple; bring you back from …from the dead, in exchange for my soul in a year." Dean saw his brother's slight flinch at the reminder of being dead, at the reminder of the deal.

He couldn't help but wonder what Sam remembered about dying, but didn't want to ask. How could you ask someone what it felt like to be dead?

"So there were no guarantees or anything?" Sam asked.

"Just to bring you back." Dean belatedly wondered whether he should have been more specific when making the deal. Having Sam back again seemed so right, as if he was somehow incomplete without his brother. He couldn't bare the thought of losing him, not again. It just wasn't an option.

"You know …I remember the sharp feeling pain when the knife stabbed me in the back …it still aches …it shouldn't still throb should it, if I'm healed …healed completely?"

"I don't know Sam …I just don't know."

"But when Dad …in the hospital …after the crash, when Dad saved you…"

"Yeah, but I wasn't dead Sam."

"So maybe this is normal then …it's just taking me a bit longer to, you know, get back on my feet."

"I don't know about normal Sam…nothing about our situation could remotely be referred to as 'normal'."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Want me to check your back?"

"Nah …it's alright." Sam looked at his brother. "Just a bit twitchy, you know …maybe I just need a good night's sleep ...I'll probably feel better in the mornin'."

"I don't know Sam …you don't look too good."

"Nice. Thanks Dean."

Dean stood up quickly and moved towards their bags, rummaging for the first aid kit. "I'm gonna take your temperature."

Sam sat complacently on the bed as Dean shoved the digital thermometer in his ear, waiting for the instrument to beep. He knew he was running a slight temperature, could feel the extra heat radiating throughout his body. When Dean removed the thermometer from his ear, he already knew the findings and braced himself for Dean's reaction.

"Why didn't you tell me you were running a fever …how long Sam?"

"Just the last couple of hours…"

"Maybe you should see a doctor…"

"And tell them what Dean? How do we explain the scar on my back ...the fact that I was dead but now I'm not …I really don't think they're gonna have that in their medical books."

"Yeah, well I don't just wanna sit here and do nothing."

"Dean, I get it okay." Sam raised compassionate eyes to his brother. He couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to see his brother dead. He understood why Dean had become more attentive, more protective, after what they'd been through. "I just need to rest …I'll feel better in the morning."

Dean paced restlessly. He didn't like the feeling of hopelessness, of not having a way to make everything right. He couldn't suppress the worry that maybe the deal wasn't as he thought, that the wording wasn't right, that he should have expressed himself more clearly, defined the terms in more detail. But he couldn't change what was already done.

"Okay, but if you don't feel any better in the morning, you're gonna see a doctor …no arguments Sam."

"Yeah …the doctors will just love me …the great Sam freak show."

"I'm serious Sam."

"Yeah, quit nagging, I hear you." Sam smiled at his brother as he got ready for bed.

oooOOOooo 

Sam woke early the next morning, just as the first few rays of sunlight started to infiltrate the thin curtains. He really didn't feel ready to be awake, and wanted nothing more than to bury his head under the pillow and go back to sleep. But his full bladder had other ideas.

He had to get up - a trip to the bathroom was a necessity. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up slowly, willing his body to full wakefulness. He had hoped that he'd be feeling better today, but realized that he didn't. A full night of solid sleep had done nothing to erase the weariness from his body.

Careful not to wake his still sleeping brother he stood slowly and made his way the short distance to the bathroom. Clicking the door quietly shut, he had to stand for a moment and brace himself on the sink, waiting for the feeling of dizziness to pass.

Still feeling unsteady on his feet, he went about his business quickly, not wanting to pass out in an embarrassing situation. He breathed a sigh of relief when he had finished, and moved over to the sink to wash his hands.

As the small room spun around, he was forced to grip the sink again and belatedly wondered if he'd be able to make it back to the bedroom before passing out. Fumbling for the faucet, he turned on the cold water and splashed it liberally on his face, desperate to clear his foggy mind.

Somethinething was wrong.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and it was becoming more and more difficult to catch his breath. He fought against the feeling, trying to take small shallow breaths, desperate to draw air into his lungs. He wanted to call out for help, but couldn't, needing each breathful of air just to keep his lungs inflated.

His pulse raced erratically, and he began to feel increasingly dizzy as the room started to spin around him and the edges of his vision clouded.

Sharp stabbing pains tore through his chest and he gasped, wanting to stop breathing to lessen the pain.

Not breathing wasn't an option.

His body wanted to lay down right there on the cold bathroom floor, but he resisted. It took all of his will power to remain standing.

He knew something was very wrong.

He knew he needed help.

Opening the bathroom door with trembling fingers, he struggled to remain upright, relying on the door frame to help support his weight and keep himself standing. Relief washed over him as he saw his brother awake and sitting up in bed.

"Dean." He gasped; the single word barely audible.

He took a stumbling step forward and saw his brother leap out of the bed in his direction.

"Dean, I think I'm ready to see a doctor now."

_**To be continued…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **To everyone who took the time to review – a big thank you. You guys are amazing with your encouragement.

**Repercussions**

**by Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 3**

Dean knew instantly that something was wrong when he saw his brother hanging onto the door frame for dear life. He chastised himself for not being more diligent, for not keeping a closer eye on his brother throughout the night.

Afraid that Sam would fall without assistance, he leapt from the bed, reaching his brother's side within seconds. Fisting a hand in the front of his shirt and threading an arm behind his back, he supported his brother's weight, guiding him slowly back towards the bed.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"Hurts …god Dean" he gasped "…it hurts." Sam rubbed a hand against his chest, fighting the pain tearing through him.

Panic coursed through Dean as he fully comprehended the state his brother was in. Sam was pale, his clammy skin almost chalk white. Dean could feel the slight shake, the trembling of Sam's muscles under his clothes as his body struggled to remain seated on the motel bed.

"Think you can make it to the car?"

Sam nodded in reply, keeping his head bent down.

Snagging his jeans off the floor, Dean dressed quickly, his eyes never straying far from his brother. Sam seemed to be getting worse before his eyes, and he hastened his movements, pulling on his boots quickly as his eyes searched for Sam's clothes.

As Sam swayed on the bed, he was forced to abandon the search for the clothes, instead reaching out to steady Sam, preventing him from falling face first towards the floor.

"Shit …god Sam, hang on …I got ya." Dean eased Sam back, lowering him to lie on his back on the bed.

Sam immediately rolled onto his side, pulling his knees towards his chest as another shaft of pain tore through his body. The pain was unlike anything that he'd experienced before and he wondered if this is what it felt like to die. He couldn't really remember much past the feeling of the knife entering his back when he'd been stabbed, he certainly didn't remember his own death. He imagined though, that this is what it must feel like, because with his luck, he wouldn't go peacefully in his sleep. No, his death would be painful and traumatic, regardless of whether it was sudden or drawn out.

Dean considered whether he should call an ambulance, but worried that it would take too long to reach them. The Impala was parked right outside, and he felt sure he could get Sam to the hospital quicker if he drove them.

Sam was going as is, in sweats and a t-shirt, Dean decided, abandoning the search for clothes as he took in his brother's rapid breathing and pain filled expression.

"Okay Sam…" Dean crouched down beside the bed, bringing his face level with his brother's. "…Think you can walk, or do I have to carry you?"

Sam reached out a hand towards Dean. "Help me." Sam pushed himself upwards as Dean grasped his hand, helping to pull him to a sitting position.

"Just …give me a sec." Sam tried to catch his breath, gathering his strength to get to his feet.

When Sam looked up again, Dean was ready, kneeling impatiently next to the bed, Sam's shoes dangling in his hand. He let Dean slip the shoes on his feet and tie the laces, trying not to feel like a toddler again as Dean completed the familiar task.

Wrapping an arm around Sam's back and pulling one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, Dean hefted his brother to his feet, supporting most of his weight.

Sam let his brother do most of the work. Vertigo hit him as soon as stood and he knew that without Dean by his side he would have fallen. Instinctively he leaned towards his brother's strength, trying to starve off the dizziness that assaulted him.

"Okay Sam?" Dean staggered as Sam leant heavily on him, seeming to collapse against his side. His arm muscles screamed as they took the added weight and he braced his legs, ready to catch Sam should he fall.

"Sorry." Sam stammered, his vision swimming, causing him to stumble as they moved together towards the door.

With relief, they made it to the car without falling, Dean panting from the exertion. His brother was no lightweight, and long gone were the days where he could lift him easily. It seemed like Sam had never stopped growing; that the brains signal to stop sprouting up had never come. Sam easily outweighed him and moving someone who out performed you in height and weight was a strenuous task. Dean was just glad that Sam had managed to walk himself to the car, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to single handedly carry him unaided.

The short car trip passed in a blur. Sam sat slumped in his seat during the brief ride, trying to blink away the feeling of dizziness. The ache in his chest had lessened, but drawing in a full breath was still painful. He wasn't sure how Dean managed to drive the trip one handed, but he did, keeping a firm hand against Sam's chest the entire journey.

When the Impala pulled to a stop outside the hospital, Sam automatically reached to open the car door, swinging his legs out onto the pavement.

"Wait." Dean shouted, causing him to stop mid motion.

Dean rushed around the car to his brother's side, seeing him ready to push to a stand had his heart fluttering in panic. Reaching out, he pulled his brother upwards before leaning him against the side of the car so that he couldn't fall.

To Sam's astonishment, Dean kicked the car door closed with his foot.

Still feeling weak and unsteady, Sam let Dean prop his shoulder under his own, and used him as a crutch as they made their way into the busy hospital.

Sam didn't complain when Dean lowered him to a seat in the far corner of the room, as far away from the group of screaming kids as it was possible to get. He hated hospital waiting rooms, crowded with sick and injured people. He always felt that with that many sick people in a confined space, that by the end of the wait you'd be sick, regardless of your health when you came in.

He watched as Dean gave their details to the nurse, wondering what name they were using this time. The lies seemed to increase each time they needed medical attention, as they constantly needed to concoct explanations for their injuries and change their identities. This time was going to be a bit different though. His injury was already healed; the vivid scar a lasting testament of the wound that had killed him. He knew they'd have to get through his examination without revealing that pertinent piece of information.

He gripped the edge of the plastic seat as his vision narrowed and he felt another hot flush of dizziness wash over him. The room seemed to be closing in on him and he closed his eyes against the sensation. He just wanted to lie down, and wondered briefly if he wouldn't have been better off staying at the motel. These small plastic chairs, joined together so that you couldn't give yourself extra space weren't designed for people who weren't feeling that great. There was no way he could lean back, no armrests, no cushioning headrest to relieve the pressure of his aching head.

He jerked as his body started to sip forwards, pushing himself back into the chair. He needed to keep his eyes open.

As Dean approached, he allowed his body to relax a little, reassured by the familiar presence by his side.

"You okay?" Dean asked, sinking into the chair beside his brother.

"Yeah."

"Might be a while." Dean muttered, second guessing his decision not to have come by ambulance. At least then, Sam would have been seen to more quickly, instead of having to take a number and wait. He didn't have a lot of patience for hospitals, and this one seemed inadequately staffed and over crowded. Despite all of his urging, the nurse had refused to rush his brother through, instead, she just glanced across at him before handing Dean the forms to be filled out.

They sat together in silence.

Dean focused on monitoring the sound of his brother's breathing as he kept an ear open, listing for Sam's name to be called.

Sam let his eyes slip shut, no longer having the energy to watch the bustling activity in the large room.

Time seemed to move so slowly when you were waiting, and Sam squirmed in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Maybe we should go …come back later." Sam just wanted to lie down, preferably in a soft bed. His chest was starting to ache again, sharp piercing pains making it more difficult to catch his breath.

"I'll go see if I can find out how much longer it's gonna be." Dean replied, moving swiftly towards the administration desk.

Sam felt bereft when Dean moved away, as if the only thing keeping him anchored was gone. He tried to follow Dean's progress through the room, but his vision was hazy and he couldn't keep his focus on his brother. A weight had settled over his chest, and each breath was a sharp agony, causing him to clench his fingers into his thigh. He dropped his head down low, focusing on a point on the floor as he tried to get his breathing under control, taking short shallow breaths. The pain was preventing him from getting the oxygen his body craved, starving his lungs of air. Black dots swam across his vision and he tried to blink them away. Rubbing a hand across his chest, he tried to cough away the congestion in his chest, staring in horror at the speckled blood that decorated his hand from the effort.

He didn't want to pass out, but his body refused to cooperate. He wavered for a second before he felt the floor rush up to meet him.

_**To be continued…**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters, but I dream about it sometimes …

**Author's Note: **Apologies for being so slow with this chapter. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

**Repercussions**

**by Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 4**

Dean's keen gaze never strayed far from his brother, even as he was stepping away, moving in the other direction and further away. Leaving him alone, even for a moment went against all his instincts, but he needed to get help, and leaving Sam alone was unavoidable.

Dodging stray kids and stretched out legs, he made his way towards the nurse he'd spoken to earlier. Her demeanor didn't look promising as she battled the impatient crowd and he wondered why someone who hated their job so much kept doing it day after day. Steeling his shoulders, he approached her head on, a smile plastered on his face, determined to win her over. He just couldn't see his brother spending too much more time waiting to be seen by a doctor, and if he could use his charm to speed up the process then he would. He didn't see the shame in that; he was just using the skills god gave him.

He'd do whatever was necessary to ensure Sam's well being.

As he stole a quick glance back at his brother, he saw Sam rub a hand across his chest, grimacing as if in pain. He was torn, wanting to rush back to Sam's side but needing to gain the nurse's attention. He stood in front of the nurse, but his attention was focused on his brother, so much so that he didn't hear her questioning voice when she queried his presence at the counter.

"Sir ….Sir …is there something I can help you with?"

Dean watched as Sam leant forward in his chair and coughed harshly, rocking forwards with the momentum of each racking spasm.

A few other patients sitting near Sam turned and looked and Dean wanted to rush over and tell them to mind their own god damn business, to give Sam a little space, a little privacy. But it seemed that when you were in the emergency room, everyone's business became your own, as you sought out any action to while away the monotony of waiting. Numerous eyes were staring at his brother but nobody moved to help, to offer even the tiniest bit of assistance, smidgen of compassion. They just stared, a young mother and child even moving away fractionally, as if Sam was contagious, as if he might cough a little too closely and infect them all.

He watched what little color that was left bleach from Sam's face as he rocked forwards. Dean knew instinctively that this time he would not be rocking back again, that this was a one way street, heading down.

Heading down fast.

Years of training spurred him into action and he was off the mark in a fraction of a second, racing to his brother's side. The nurse, still questioning, was a distant buzz in his ears as he moved away from her, completely focused on the events unfolding before his eyes. He was unmindful of the other occupants of the room and he pushed forwards, not caring of who he jostled or shoved; intent only of taking the shortest route to Sam's side.

He wasn't quick enough to prevent Sam's downwards motion, so instead he focused on cushioning his fall, stretching out his arms to receive his brother's weight as he toppled lifelessly towards the grimy floor. His muscles clenched as they gripped his brother's shoulders, lowering him down gently to lie awkwardly on his back with his legs bunched up against the row of chairs. Sam didn't seem to mind the contortionist position; his body remaining limp and unmoving on the cold linoleum floor.

"Help …I need some help here!" Dean yelled, his voice booming in the now quieter room as people hushed, all eyes turned towards the fallen man.

"Sam …Sam ….can you hear me?" Dean ran an expert hand across his brother's face as he moved automatically to Sam's neck to check his pulse, relieved when he felt its familiar beat under his fingertips - the rhythmic beat he'd sold his soul for.

Sam's breathing was shallow and rapid, but it was the only visual testament that he was still alive. He looked so fragile on the floor and Dean wanted to pull him in closer to his own body, shield him from the curious onlookers who had nothing better to do than rejoice in someone else's misery.

"Come on Sam …don't do this…"

"Dean?" Sam opened glazed eyes and immediately sought out the form of his brother, relaxing slightly when their eyes locked.

Dean felt the jostle from behind and fought down the urge to turn around and punch someone's eyes out. A second later when it happened again he clenched his fist and turned his head.

"Sir, you need to give us some room…" The guy in the white coat nudged him again, trying to move him further away from his brother. He looked back and held his ground. He wasn't leaving his brother's side, not again, not now.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Sam squinted against the bright pin prick of light being shone into his eyes and answered automatically, giving his first name.

Dean listened as Sam responded to the questions. He couldn't help wondering what the point was in filling out all those God damn hospital forms if nobody bothered reading the details. His brother's name, well this week's name anyway, was scribbled in black ink right on the top of the first page for God's sake, he'd put it there himself.

The contrast to the hospital staff's earlier complacency and inactivity were staggering. Dean felt helpless, almost inconsequential, as the hospital staff loaded his brother onto a gurney and rushed Sam from the room. They didn't try to stop him following and he stayed glued by his brother's side, following the rapid pace of the gurney until it came to rest in a curtained examination room.

"Shit Sam …you sure know how to get attention." He muttered, lightly laying his palm over the top of his brother's hand.

"Learnt it from you." Sam smiled weakly at Dean.

Sam felt marginally better now that he was lying down flat, his vision, although still blurry, was starting to return and his breathing felt a little easier.

He followed the doctor's instructions as he was examined, trying to answer the questions as accurately and honestly as he could. Dean helped, injecting an answer every time he hesitated in responding, inventing stories that approximated the truth to describe every scar, every notable past injury that littered his lanky frame. Sam was surprised to hear that he rode a motorcycle, played football, and enjoyed rock climbing as a past-time. He'd never had a past-time and hadn't ridden a motorcycle since he was in his teens. Dean was good; he had to give him that. The half-truths just slid off his tongue, so convincing in their normality.

He was helped to sit up and his shirt eased off his shoulders. He waited to hear what Dean would say when the freshly healed scar on his lower back was exposed, knowing that he would let his brother answer the anticipated question.

Sitting up really wasn't agreeing with him, and he hoped the doctor would hurry up and finish his examination. He was starting to feel dizzy again as the room swum in and out of focus. He swayed, leaning back as the effort to hold himself upright became too much, and he felt the hands behind him support his weight as he was lowered back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes against the bright overhead light and tried to block out the buzzing in his ears.

He could feel the confused activity around him, but he couldn't respond. Each breath took to much effort to waste on words.

Dean watched in horror as Sam seemed to wilt again before his eyes, collapsing backwards on the bed as his body folded in on itself. Sam's eyes fluttered closed and each gasping breath sounded labored as his lungs struggled to draw in enough oxygen to satisfy his body.

The doctor yelled out instructions, and more staff entered the confined space. This time he took a few steps backwards, but no further than a couple of feet away, needing to be within arms reach if Sam needed him.

Medical staff surrounded his brother and he watched as Sam was hooked up to various machines and an oxygen mask placed over his mouth. Everything started to buzz around him and he leant back against the wall for support as he felt his world dissolve around him.

"Blood pressure's bottoming out …he's tachycardic."

_**To be continued…**_

**Author's note:** I'm not a doctor and don't pretend to be, so poetic license taken on all medical jargon – it's as accurate as a little web surfing allows me to be.

Reviews are love and will be treated as such.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Many many thanks for the reviews - they've kept me determined to continue even though life keeps throwing me curve balls as I struggle to find the time to write. Won't waste any more time …

**Repercussions**

**by Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 5**

Without the wall behind his back he would have fallen. The flurry of activity in the room was intense, carrying an edge of urgency that did nothing to improve his peace of mind. Sam was fading before his eyes and again there was nothing he could do. He stood, pressed against the wall, and watched.

Helpless.

Unable to offer assistance as the medical staff strived to stabilize his brother.

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything they'd done, any action they'd taken, that could have undone the deal he'd made. His mind came up blank. There just hadn't been enough time to find a way out of his dilemma, to save his soul. Sam had barely had time to properly heal.

Sam hadn't healed. That was the problem. He hadn't come back one hundred percent healthy, the pain in his back present on re-entering the world of the living. Sam's pain hadn't gone unnoticed, but out of necessity they'd pushed it aside for the first few days, their minds fully occupied by other things.

But Sam hadn't got better as Dean had assumed he would. That was the purpose of the deal after all, but now he wondered why he would choose this time to trust a demon.

As he looked back, he could see that Sam's health had steadily declined over the past few days, and they'd been lax in not seeking medical attention earlier. Then maybe Sam wouldn't be lying pale and weak on the bed in front of him, struggling to hang on to life - if they'd done something sooner.

Everything was going wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His brother didn't deserve the pain and suffering that he attracted over and over again.

He stared, mesmerized by the activity around Sam, wanting to look away but unable to peel his eyes from the sight before him. He wanted to block out the sight, the sounds, but they were too intense, immersing him in their depths. He wanted this to be a dream, to open his eyes and see that everything was alright, that Sam was lying in the motel bed beside his, sleeping peacefully.

He cringed as a large needle was filled with dubious looking liquid and quickly injected into the intravenous drip already inserted in Sam's arm. The needle plunged into the clear tubing, dispersing its contents with the other fluids. Sam's body stilled and the bed side rails were quickly pulled up, securing his brother on the gurney. Seeing Sam through the steel bars did nothing to ease his panic, instead bringing up memories of another time that Sam had been restrained, behind bars. He didn't want to go there, quickly bringing his mind back to the present. He moved out of the way, preparing to follow as the gurney was rolled forwards and maneuvered awkwardly out of the confined space.

Daring anyone to challenge him, he placed a hand on the edge of the bed, unwilling to let go.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam's eyes stared blurrily at the ceiling, the sharp fluorescent lighting playing havoc with his throbbing head. Raising a shaky hand, he felt the oxygen mask covering his face, trying to remember how it got there. The last few minutes were a blur.

He remembered having difficulty breathing, and then everything went hazy and grey.

In sudden panic, he cast his eyes around him as he struggled to raise himself on the bed.

Where was Dean?

Unknown hands reached out to stop his feeble attempt at moving, holding his shoulders firmly against the mattress. Despite his fatigue, his instincts kicked in and he fought against the unfamiliar touch.

"D …Dean?" His weak voice sounded garbled under the constricting mask, but that didn't deter him. He reached up, trying to remove the offending item.

"I'm right here Sam." Dean leant in closer to the bed so that Sam could see him from his horizontal position.

He wanted to ask his brother what was happening, but the mask was being replaced over his mouth and his hand was gently pried away from his face. He allowed his body to relax, knowing that Dean was beside him. The adrenaline surge left his body as his tense muscles relaxed against the bed, leaving him feeling weak and tired.

Dean was here.

He closed his eyes. The movements of the gurney as it rolled down the corridor was making him feel sick and dizzy. He was just so tired.

A warm hand clasped over the top of his, and he opened his eyes a mere slit to see Dean standing by his side, his face wearing a worried frown.

He let his eyes drift shut again and gave in to the lull of sleep.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean felt like he'd been pacing forever in the small confines of the hospital room. Looking down, he was surprised to see that he hadn't worn a grove into the floor; his feet felt like they'd been worn to the bone.

Sam lay still in the hospital bed, his pallid complexion a good match with the crisp sheets. He knew he should probably sit down, but he'd been banished to numerous waiting rooms for hours while Sam had undergone various tests and scans. He wasn't yet ready to sit again; his body rebelling against the patience he was trying to instill.

He wasn't good at hospitals. Neither at being a patient or a visitor, although when his brother was involved, he'd take being the patient over the visitor any day.

Hospitals always indicated that they were out of options. That there was a problem that couldn't be fixed by themselves.

Family and self reliance was everything; it was how he was raised. Now, Sam was the only other person he felt he could rely on without question. Bobby was starting to get to that point also. He'd shown over and over again that he could be depended on when their chips were down.

He considered phoning the older man, but wasn't sure if Bobby had fully understood or forgiven him for the sacrifice he'd made for Sam. He didn't want to hear about fate or karma or how you shouldn't mess with destiny. He didn't want to hear the words he feared Bobby would utter – _"I told you so."_

The rustle of sheets brought his gaze back to the bed.

Sam shifted on the narrow bed and he moved closer to his brother's side. Sinking onto the chair pushed next to the bed, he propped his elbows on top of the bed covers and rested his chin in his hands. Watching Sam intently, he waited to see if he'd wake.

A few moments later he was rewarded with another wriggle and a small moan as Sam slowly returned to consciousness.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam's eyelids fluttered open despite the heavy weight pushing against them. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, focusing his eyes on Dean as his brother peered at him over the bed.

"Hey." The words seemed insignificant given their surroundings, but he was momentarily stumped for something more insightful to say.

"Hey yourself. How you feeling?" Dean reached over and pressed the nurse call button as he spoke the words.

"Okay."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's stock response, prompting for a more honest answer.

"Little tired I guess. Thirsty. Ah …what happened?"

Dean retrieved the glass of tepid water that had been resting on the table for the last few hours, propping up his brother's head as he raised the glass to his lips so that Sam could take a few sips.

"You tried to do a horizontal slow dance with the waiting room floor …great way to attract attention by the way …next time though, how about…"

Dean put the glass back on the table and paused in his monologue as a nurse bustled into the room. She retrieved Sam's chart from the end of the bed before reaching Sam's side.

"Good to see you finally decided to wake up." She chirped as she checked his vitals, recording her findings in the chart.

Sam looked at Dean quizzically. "How long?"

"About 12 hours." Dean replied.

Sam didn't feel like he'd been sleeping for 12 hours. His body was a little stiff, like he'd been lying in the same spot for too long, but he definitely didn't feel well rested. He nervously chewed his bottom lip as he asked the question that had been plaguing him since he'd woken up in the sterile hospital room.

"Ah, what's wrong with me?"

_**To be continued…**_

**Author's note: **Next chapter in next day or two – I promise. All will be revealed.

**Reviews are love.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **As I struggle to find the time to write, it's the reviews that motivate me to keep going – can't thank you all enough.

**Repercussions**

**by Kokoda2007**

_Sam didn't feel like he'd been sleeping for 12 hours. His body was a little stiff, like he'd been lying in the same spot for too long, but he definitely didn't feel well rested. He nervously chewed his bottom lip as he asked the question that had been plaguing him since he'd woken up in the sterile hospital room._

"_Ah, what's wrong with me?"_

**Chapter 6**

Dread settled like a weight on his shoulder that refused to be lifted. He'd been waiting for Sam to ask that very question.

He'd known it was just a matter of time before his brother started his endless questioning and relentless search for answers. Some things never changed.

"Reckon you were dropped on your head one too many times as a baby…"

"Dean…"

"Don't worry Sammy …told the doc it was only a couple of times, and you hardly cried."

"Dean, I'm serious…"

"Yeah well we all know that."

"Don't make me hit you."

"Huh, in your dreams…"

"Are you gonna tell me or do I have to go find the doctor?"

"Doc says you gotta stay in bed …resting."

"Dean…"

"Actually, your doctor should be in to see you shortly …he's just started his rounds." The nurse interrupted their bantering, trying to curb the escalating verbal battle and calm her patient. She finished her examination and smoothed out the sheet covering Sam.

"Am I dying? Is that it?" He demanded as soon as the nurse walked out of ear shot.

Dean felt the remorse wash over him. He should have expected that. Sam always started with the worse case scenario, afraid to hope for anything more.

"God no." He muttered under his breath. "No Sam, you're not dying okay?"

"You know Dean, it's not your fault if I am, maybe that's just the way it's supposed to be, maybe…"

"Sam! …Will you listen for one sec …I said you're not dying."

"Then tell me Dean."

"I gotta be honest, most of what the doc told me was a lot of goobly-gook …didn't make a lot of sense – but that's doctors for you …always gotta use words that nobody else understands ...like they've got to prove they're superior or something."

Sam recognized the stalling for what it was. He looked at his brother, waiting for him to continue.

"It's my fault Sam. I don't know, maybe I took too long …before you know …I made the deal. I just didn't think of it right away, and me and Bobby, after it happened, we moved you, took you back to that room …lay you down …you know?"

Sam gave a small nod in ascent. He really didn't know. Dean had refused to discuss the finer details of that day and he hadn't pushed his brother for enlightenment. The whole idea of being dead and what Dean had gone through made him feel more than a little uneasy.

"I mean …you were dead Sam. …Your body got cold …and there was nothing I could do."

"Dean…"

"I took too long. Doc reckons that your blood …there's all these clots that shouldn't be there. Maybe I should've made you rest more …take the time you needed to recover. God, when I think about it now, you can't just lie there still and cold for all that time and then just get up as if nothings happened. I mean, I know your back was still hurting …we should've taken a break, rested up for a few days, taken things easy for once in our lives."

"Dean, this isn't your fault …hell, how do we even know it's related to what happened?"

"Well the doc can't figure it out – he's not really sure of the cause …not like I could tell him that the healed scar on your back only happened a week ago could I?"

"Could've been something else?"

"Yeah, like what Sam? You been taking any long haul flights these last few days that I don't know about?"

"Why fly when we can drive, right?" Sam quipped.

Dean thought of Sam's long limbs cramped up in the front of the Impala for hours on end without a break as they drove for mile after mile. He pictured Sam stretching his muscles and rotating his joints as he tried to relieve the aches in his body from sitting still for too long; squirming as he tried to get comfortable in the confined space.

"Doc reckons maybe you had a sporting injury or something – something that I didn't know about. …Yeah, like that'd happen."

"Shooting's a sport last time I checked."

"That's not what I meant Sam."

"So, what'd you tell him?"

"Told him you were clumsy and sometimes fell over your own oversized feet …maybe hurt yourself that way."

"Nice Dean."

Sam sighed wearily. Even though he was exhausted, he already found the hospital bed restrictive and was eager to make an escape.

"So ah …when can we leave?" Sam asked hesitantly; almost afraid of the answer.

Dean glared back at him. "When the doc says you can."

"Since when do we…" Sam stopped mid sentence as a middle aged man in traditional doctors' garb of white coat with stethoscope slung around his neck entered the room.

"Good to see you finally decided to join us." The doctor stated upon entering, snagging Sam's chart and making his way over to the side of the bed.

"Created quite a stir in the waiting room I hear." He smiled, trying to put Sam at ease.

"Yeah …I feel a lot better now though."

"Well, that could be a bit deceptive." The doctor looked at Dean before continuing. "I don't know how much your brother's told you, but you gave us all a bit of a scare. Until we ran all those tests we were sort of working blind, weren't sure what we were dealing with. …Seems you've got some blood clots …every heard of 'pulmonary embolisms'?"

"Ah …not really."

"Well sometimes, usually following injury or surgery, a blood clot can form …the clot can dislodge and travel to the lung causing a pulmonary embolism. The clot passing into the lung is what would have caused the chest pain you experienced and the lightheadedness that caused you to pass out."

"So the clot's gone now?"

"We're administering Heparin, a drug that helps thin the blood, through your IV. It should stop any more clots from forming."

Sam looked at the IV, slowly dripping fluids into his body. "So, when the IV's finished, I can go?"

"I don't think you comprehend the seriousness of this condition Sam …I can call you Sam?"

"Yeah."

"If the pulmonary emboli are large and block one or both of the major pulmonary arteries sending blood to your lungs, there's the risk of lung or heart failure ...all things considered, you've been lucky so far."

"But the treatment, it'll fix it right?"

"We've started you on a course of treatment to thin your blood to stop it clotting. I want to monitor you to make sure that the existing clots don't travel to your lungs – so you're on complete bed rest until that risk has passed. And I mean complete bed rest – no getting up at all, even to use the bathroom. Walking around could dislodge a clot, and I don't want to scare you, but if that happens again, you mightn't be so lucky the next time around."

Sam nodded in reply, at little stunned at the diagnosis.

"My examination didn't reveal what preempted the clotting – have you had any recent surgery, in the last week or so, any knocks, injuries, plane travel?"

"If you knew the cause, would it help you treat him?" Dean asked.

"Well not really, but I'd like to identify the cause so that…"

"I haven't had any recent surgery and ah …plane travel's not really our thing."

The doctor made some notes and returned Sam's medical chart to the hook at the end of the bed. "Well, you get some rest and I'll look in on you during my next rounds …let one of the nurses know if you need anything."

"Oh, I definitely will." Dean replied with a smile.

Sam glared at his brother, recognizing the wicked glint in his eye.

"Thank you." Sam answered politely.

The brothers watched the doctor leave the room, the door closing softly behind him.

"I forgot to ask him how long I had to stay." Sam muttered.

"As long as it takes…"

Right now, Sam felt too tired to start arguing with his brother. He could feel the exhaustion washing over him in waves, and he no longer had the energy to fight his body's needs. Blinking his tired eyes, he fiddled with the IV tube as he tried to get comfortable on the narrow bed.

He looked at his brother through bleary half closed eyes. "Dean…"

"Yeah Sammy."

"Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Tired of what?"

"Saving me."

"Nah …not in this lifetime." Dean could have kicked himself as soon as the ill chosen words left his mouth.

Sam mentally cringed at the reminder. A lifetime for Dean was now less than a year.

"Dean …thanks."

"Hey, you get some rest …I'll be here when you wake up."

Sam closed his eyes, letting sleep overtake him.

**End.**

**Author's note: **I've decided to finished this story here (struggling to find time to write at the moment) and I'll most likely continue this theme with a sequel. Blood thinner medication needs to be taken for a while after leaving hospital and a side effect is that it can make you bleed profusely and bruise easily. Patients taking blood thinner medication need to be careful about participating in contact sports due etc. due to the high risk of uncontrolled bleeding that could result from injury. Sam getting injured and bleeding a lot – I can go there.

Reviews are love. Thank you.


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